


The Lumberjack

by Mysenia



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills 2017 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Mild Gore, Pre-Slash, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/pseuds/Mysenia
Summary: In which Stiles is Little Red and Peter is the Lumberjack who rescues him (all thanks to a Witch)





	The Lumberjack

**Author's Note:**

> mieczyslawstilesstilinski asked:  
> "You look pretty hot in plaid." steter, please?:)

Stiles was not the type to get lost in the woods. For one: his dad had taught him how to navigate without a compass during the day and astrology by night, and two: he knew too many werewolves with super senses to ever truly be lost as they tended to keep an eye on their human pack mates. That does not mean that he never got lost, just to say that it took a lot for that to happen.

Witches turning the forest into some kind of nightmare realm with fairy tales come to life? Well, those were special circumstances and Stiles could not be blamed for getting lost.

He cursed as the magic currently trapping him in the forest kept redirecting him to the path every time he tried to leave it. Stiles knew exactly what fairy tale he was trapped in and cursed his luck that the wolf currently stalking him was not a werewolf but a _wolf_ wolf that wanted to eat him - or, well, a magical wolf that could talk but was not a werewolf that still wanted to eat him. Fucking confusing but who said fairy tales made any sense anyways?

The red hood fell into his eyes again and he pushed it out of his face, the basket hooked over his arm hitting in the face. He cursed and lowered the arm that held the basket, a basket which he could not get rid of no matter how hard he tried, and used his other hand to rub at his sore cheek. 

Stiles is not sure exactly how long he had been walking before the wolf finally ventured close to the path and Stiles was finally allowed to stop. His legs hurt and he desperately wanted water but he knew how the story went, there would be no water or respite for him.

“Well, hello little girl. Where might you be going?” The wolf asked, Stiles shuddering at the way the wolf’s mouth contorted to be able to speak.

Stiles tried to keep his mouth shut but there was no use. “I’m going to Grandma’s house.”

“I see you have a basket there, are you bringing your Granny some treats?”

Stiles felt his head nod. “Yes, mama baked her some goodies to help her get better.”

“Has she been ill? Why, you must also bring her some flowers! Why don’t you go pick some? I’m sure a nice bouquet will cheer her up!”

“Thank you, Mr. Wolf! I will!” Stiles responded, the false enthusiasm cracking his voice. He watched as the wolf loped off and his body turn from the path, heading for a rose bush conveniently located only a few yards away.

Stiles dropped to his knees before the rose bush, his hands reaching out and grabbing up the roses, heedless of the thorns catching at his skin. His hands were a mess by the time the magic deemed he had enough gathered, the stems stained as red as the petals. While Stiles might have no control over his body he still had the sensations and fuck but his hands hurt.

He was up on his feet in the next moment, the bouquet of roses clutched tightly in his left hand, as he made his way back to the path. Stiles knew where this path was taking him, knew that at the end he would be swallowed whole by the wolf. And while he also knew that the Lumberjack saved Little Red and her Grandma in the tale, he was quite certain that his ending would not be so happy.

Stiles walked for what felt like another eternity before what could only be ‘his’ Grandma’s house loomed up ahead. It was a quaint little cottage, or would be if the lighting did not make it look like the fucking haunting was going down. Stiles tried not to grimace as he walked closer, tried instead to _will_ his way out of the living nightmare he found himself in but nothing happened.

His heart racing, Stiles knocked on the door and waited for a reply from his Grandma.

“Come in!”

The voice that called him in rang out in falsetto making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Everything in him screamed at him to run away but Stiles watched, helpless, as his hand lifted and turned the doorknob. The cottage was dark save for a single candle that flickered on the table. He could see the grotesque shape of the wolf in the bed but the puppeteer commanded him forward and Stiles could do nothing but obey.

He placed the basket and roses on the table as he made his way over to the bed. He drew back the shades and tried to throw his body back at the sight of the blood covered muzzle that greeted him as the wolf grinned.

“Hello dearie, it’s so nice that you’ve come to visit your dear old Granny.”

“My, Grandma, what big eyes you have,” Stiles said, voice ringing loudly through the suddenly quiet cottage as his eyes gazed into those of the wolf.

“All the better to see you with, dearie.”

Stiles eyes glanced up at the wolf’s ears. “My, what big ears you have, Grandma.”

“All the better to hear you with, my dear.”

Stiles tried to pull back, tried to force himself off the bed, but inevitably his eyes moved to look at the sharp teeth now on display. “My, what big teeth you have, Grandma,” Stiles said, his eyes finally allowed to close as Stiles awaited the ending of this fairy tale.

“All the better to-”

The whistling of metal moving quickly through the air had Stiles’ eyes snapping open in time to see the wolf’s head cleanly severed. Stiles jerked back and tumbled backwards off the bed, the magic having finally released him from its grip. His eyes jumped from the ax embedded in the mattress up to the Lumberjack, his mouth dropping open when he saw who it was.

“The only one who’ll be eating you with their big teeth, is me,” Peter proclaimed proudly as he displayed said teeth.

“Thank fuck, I thought I was a goner.”

Peter smirked. “I noticed. It’s not like you to play damsel, though I must say the outfit does suit you.”

Stiles grumbled about kinky werewolves (though he admitted to himself that the dress was damn comfortable and the cape was the warmest and softest thing he had ever worn) and finally actually looked at Peter. The werewolf was dressed just like what Stiles supposed a lumberjack would wear.

“You know,” Stiles said as he looked Peter up and down. “You look pretty hot in plaid.”

The smirk Peter was sporting only grew as the cottage dissolved around them. They looked around and noticed an unmoving body on the ground right where the dead wolf should have been.

“If you would do the honours,” Peter gestured at the corpse. “then we can go back to my place and I can reacquaint you with how hot I am no matter what I might be wearing, or not wearing as the case will be.”

Stiles snorted and snapped his fingers, watching as the body burst into flames. Making sure that the fire burned hot, and that the smell was contained, Stiles watched the body disintegrate as Peter looked away. Peter understood the necessity of burning but elected to never watch, which was fine by Stiles.

“Alright, wolf, let’s you and I get out of here. We need to fix up my hand first because damn is it stinging but afterwards you damn well better make good on that promise to show me how hot you are naked!” 

Peter stepped up to Stiles’ side as they made their way out of the forest, back as it was to its original state, and whispered in his ear. “Oh, Stiles, when have I ever not kept my word?” Before nipping at Stiles’ ear and stepping past him.

Stiles grinned as the wolf swayed his hips, provoking a reaction that was already a forgone conclusion in Stiles. 

Though the plaid was now gone and both men were back in their own clothes, Stiles knew they would be revisiting this particular fantasy. Specifically the plaid. Stiles would never complain again about Peter mocking his plaid shirts if the wolf agreed to don one every now and then.

Because, as he had said, the man did look pretty damn fucking hot in that plaid.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> ~ M


End file.
